Three Times in Summer
by doyou000me
Summary: The 1st time, it's sleep depravation. The 2nd time, it's curiosity. The 3rd time, it's frustration and anger. They all lead him to Andy, who knows just how to get Harry's mind off of things. MxM/DRUGS
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I usually don't write stories with OCs as main characters. This was really supposed to be the very short beginning of another story but then... well, it became this.

**1.**

* * *

Later, he'll say he did it because of the constant nightmares and lack of sleep. He'll say it was because of the repressed fear that's been aching in his back and hurting his head. It's the isolation and the fact that Voldemort's out there while he, Harry, is stuck at Privet Drive.

Right at that time, it's a very hot day and the sun is scorching his reddening neck and shoulders. His head is heavy, too warm and too tired, his pulse beating in his temples. The dandelions in the lawn are stubbornly deep-rooted and his fingers are black with dirt and sap, a knuckle bleeding sluggishly where he scraped himself on the weeder.

Dudley is sitting on the garden wall a bit away, two of his friends standing on the sidewalk, kicking dust as they're waiting for something. Dudley said goodbye to Aunt Petunia earlier, no doubt to stop his friends from finding out that he goes by Dudleykins at home. They've all got backpacks piled by their feet, and Piers's one clucks suspiciously whenever he moves it. Not that Harry cares. Apart from a few comments when Piers came and the stray glance, he's perfectly content to be ignored by the other boys.

A car honks and the thump of loud music approaches. Aunt Petunia's not going to like that, Harry thinks and throws a ruffled dandelion on the growing pile by his side. Pushing his glasses up, he looks over the wall to see a battered old Mini Cooper brake harshly just outside of Nr 4. The windows are down and the radio is blaring. It's a far cry from the polished minivans parked on the drives of Privet Drive.

The door is thrown open and a guy comes out, a stubbly grin on his face and a hand with rings on it reaching up to stroke his auburn hair back. He's taller than even Dudley, but where Dudley's all fat, this guy seems to be filled out with muscles. Whoever he is, Harry hopes they're going far away for a long time.

"Hey man, this is where you live? I barely found it, it's bloody easy to get lost when all the houses look the same!" The guy gives a short laugh - Hah-ha! - and the words tug at the corner of Harry's mouth.

Harry digs the weeder into the ground to bend up another dandelion and doesn't listen to Dudley's grumpy come-back. His head feels hot and the air is standing still in this corner of the garden. He'd kill for a glass of water but Aunt Petunia is never going to let him into the kitchen looking like this. He rises with a hand against the garden wall, takes his glasses off and pulls up Dudley's old t-shirt to dry his sweaty face.

"Hey, who's this? You never told me you have a brother, D!"

Harry starts and looks up. Even without his glasses on, he can tell Dudley's looking as aghast as he's feeling.

"We're not brothers!" he blurts at the same time as Dudley exclaims "He's not my brother!"

A moment of silence follows where Harry puts on his glasses and catches the new guy raising his brows, grey eyes going back and forth between them.

"Okay… Is your not brother coming with us, then, D?"

"No, he isn't."

Piers and Malcolm are looking increasingly awkward, staring down at their feet and shuffling a bit.

"Oh, come on, we've got space for another one! It's way too hot for gardening - you'd rather come swimming with us in the Wey, right?"

Dudley starts bumbling about "special school" and Harry being a real headcase, but going swimming does sound like a good step up from that glass of water. Now that he thinks about it, they're all wearing swimming trunks and sandals and Malcolm's got a rolled up towel peeking out of his too full backpack.

"Yeah, sure, I'm coming."

He's dropped the weeder and jumped the wall before he knows what he's doing. Dudley, Piers and Malcolm are all glaring at him but the new guy is grinning.

"Brilliant! Hop in, lads!"

The backpacks join an assorted mess of blankets and plastic bags in the trunk and they all squeeze in, Dudley in the front and Harry pressed against the door in the back with Piers and Malcolm. There's only seat belts for two in the back, but they're crammed together so tight they mights as well have sticking charms keeping them in place.

"I'm Andy!" the guy shouts as he gets into the driver's seat and cranks up the radio a little bit more. "What's your name?"

"Harry!"

"Have some water, Harry! You're getting me thirsty just looking at you!"

He reaches back with a dented plastic bottle and Harry accepts it gratefully. Twisting the cap off, he downs half of it, not caring about the water he spills down his chin and not noticing Andy's eyes in the rearview mirror.

Music blaring, they drive off at a speed that can't be allowed on the quiet streets of Little Whinging. Andy's driving with his arm hanging out the window and a hand resting lightly on the steering wheel, nodding along to the beat. In the seat in front of Harry, Dudley fiddles with the buttons on the radio.

"Shit, I left the chocolate in my backpack!" Malcolm realises and twists in the middle seat.

"You bloody idiot!" Piers shouts when he gets squished.

Harry rolls his eyes and pretends neither of them exist. Leaning his head out the window, he closes his eyes and enjoys the wind against his face.

* * *

River Wey curls it's way through the fields and towns of Surrey, now and then doubling back on itself, in places spilling out into lakes. Andy turns off the road and sends the little Mini jumping down a pair of bumpy wheel tracks across a field. Piers curses loudly when Malcolm knocks his chin with his elbow and Harry holds on to the door for dear life. The tracks snake in among the trees, oak and ash growing tall around them. Andy takes a sharp turn and the little car lurches as it bounces in and out of a hole in the ground. Harry's thrown forward and hits his forehead against the back of Dudley's seat, and then they've stopped.

"That's it, everyone!" Andy calls and turns the radio off, the sudden silence like a heavy blanket over their ears. "We're here!"

Harry scrabbles at the door, finds the handle and stumbles out of the car. On the other side, he hears Piers fall out onto the ground with a yelp and Malcolm and Dudley laugh as they climb out of the Mini.

"Here" is a grove of trees in a crook of River Wey, a willow with long, rope-like branches bending over the water and reeds and Indian Balsam growing tall along the grassy riverbank. Spots of sunlight dance over the ground and the splash of the river fills the grove, drowning out the sounds of a passing car on the road across the field.

"Let's unload, lads! Hey, Polkiss, you got the drinks?"

The trunk pops open and there's a general scuffle of bags and stuff. Harry leans against a nearby tree and looks out over the river, sunlight sparkling on the ripples.

"Hey, Harry! Catch!"

He turns around and his Quidditch reflexes kick in. A can hits his palm and he looks down at a Strongbow that's been thrown his way, then looks up when Andy whistles.

"Nice catch! You play baseball or something?"

"Or something," Harry mumbles.

"If you're gonna come along you can at least help," Dudley calls and chucks one of the backpacks at him. Harry snatches it out of the air as its about to sail past him and puts it down on the ground. Unzipping it, he raises his brows at the load of sausages and marshmallows that could feed at least ten people.

"Hey, anyone know how to put up a tent?" Andy asks, holding up a long, blue nylon bag.

"Last one in the water has to put up the tent!" Piers calls and sets off towards the river, throwing off his t-shirt as he goes. Dudley and Malcolm drop what's in their hands and thunder after him as Harry stares at Andy.

"A tent?"

"Yeah, where did you think we're gonna sleep?"

"Wait, we're staying the night?"

Andy gives that short hah-ha laugh and nods. "Come on, Harry. Seems we're in charge of the tent. Might as well take a swim before we figure out where the sticks gotta go."

Harry glances towards the three boys already in the river and grimaces when Dudley seems to make a valid attempt at drowning Malcolm.

"I'll just stay up here with this," he says and holds up the can of cider. He cracks it open, then yelps when it fizzes and sprays foam.

Hah-ha-ha! Andy puts down the tent and comes over, taking the can from Harry's soaked hands with his thumb and index finger.

"The Strongbow has spoken!" he declares.

"I didn't bring trunks!" Harry hisses and glares down at the stain on the old t-shirt. At least he didn't get any cider on his joggers, but the knees are dark with soil from kneeling in the garden. Come to think of it, his hands are still covered in dirt and dandelion sap and he's sticky with sweat as if he forgot to shower after Quidditch training.

"Oh, come off it, Harry - we're all lads here! Who cares? Hop in in your pants if you don't wanna go naked."

He puts the can down and holds his arm out in a you first gesture. Harry frowns at him, glances to the glittering water, and sighs. Pulling the string on his trousers, he kicks off his worn sneakers and the trousers, which he puts on the backseat of the Mini followed by his glasses. With the trees and reeds a blur of green and brown, he gingerly follows the sparkle of sunlight in the water. The shouts and splashing of Dudley and his friends are loud against a backdrop of rustling leaves and rushing water.

There's the rapid thump, thump, thump of running feet. A pair of arms lock around his shoulders and a body crashes into his back. He screams and flails when he's launched into the air and for a breath of a moment, they're flying. Then they're plunging into the river, water closing over Harry's head and blanketing his hearing, rushing into his mouth. He kicks out and finds nothing, then kicks again and hits the loose sediment on the bottom. Breaking the surface, he sucks in a deep breath and coughs, his nose burning as he palms the water out of his eyes. The hoots of laughter from Dudley and his friends cut clean through the water in his ears and Harry glares at them through his dripping finge.

"There you go! Not so bad, is it?"

"Oh, fuck off, would you?" Harry shoots a glare at Andy, turns his back to him and wades off a bit. His toe is smarting from where he stubbed it on a stone and he digs a pinky finger into his ear to get the water out. It's pretty obvious now, how Dudley knows Andy; they're obviously the same sort.

The wet t-shirt is glued to his skin and quickly turning cold, so he grabs the hem and peels it off. Scrubbing it in the water to get the cider and dried-in sweat out, he uses it to scrub off. Splashing water into his face and stroking his hair back, he ignores the ruckus Dudley is making and looks up at the blurry greenery with suds of light coming through.

There's a bit of a splash right behind him and Harry turns to squint at Andy over his shoulder. Even without his glasses, he thinks Andy's grin seems a little less confident.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"I didn't drown, did I?" Harry snaps back and turns away. Snatching up the sopping wet t-shirt, he ruffles his hair to get some of the water out and wades back to the riverbank. Maybe he can steal Dudley's towel and dry off without his cousin noticing.

* * *

Harry pulls his trousers back up and ties the string to keep them from sliding down. Like most of his muggle clothes, they're Dudley's hand-me-downs and several sizes too big. Going down to the river, he washes his hands off before making a turn, trying to find where he put his beer in the darkness among the trees. To his disappointment, he does find it precariously balanced atop a stone. In spite of Piers's half-hearted protests, Andy handed it to him when they lit the disposable grill earlier and Harry quickly realised that muggle beer is nothing like butterbeer. If the bitter taste wasn't enough, it had also grown stale as Harry grimaced and sipped his way through it.

Picking it up, Harry shakes it a bit and sighs when he realises half of it is still left.

The grove has gone quiet. The Wey rushes by, the sound of moving water blending with the crickets from the fields and the coo of a nearby dove. Dew is gathering on the grass and Harry shivers and rubs his arm as he picks his way through the darkness back to their "camp". The Mini is snugly parked between the trees and the orange tent is up by the water, a collection of sleeping bags piled inside. The others are sitting around the disposable grill, the last coals burning red and a blackened hot dog laying forgotten on the grate. Harry's stomach grumbles at the loss - he only managed to nick one sausage for himself before the others had shovelled the rest of them down.

His t-shirt is hanging like a ghostly flag on a branch and he pulls it down. It's a bit stiff and very wrinkly, but at least it's dry so Harry pulls it on. He pokes his head into the tent and frowns; in difference from the tent he stayed in at the Quidditch Cup last year, the inside is actually as small as the outside. There's no way the five of them are going to fit in there - considering how big Dudley and Malcolm are, Harry reckons only the two of them are going to fill the tiny space. There's a towel someone's thrown in there. It's not completely dry, but it's better than nothing so Harry takes it and wraps it around his shoulders.

"Harry? What's it like?"

Harry starts and turns around. Piers and Malcolm are sitting with their heads together, giggling quietly about something, and Andy is sitting on the other side of the fire, a Strongbow in hand. Cans, food packages and burnt marshmallows litter the ground. Dudley is right next to Harry, and he's staring up at his cousin with wide eyes wand distant gaze.

"What's what like?"

"Magic," Dudley breaths and Harry feels his brows climb up. "It gotta be pretty cool to have magic. Can you make shit fly and stuff?"

Harry takes a quick glance around the camp, but Piers and Malcolm are obviously not listening and Andy probably can't hear anything from across the grill.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can make things fly."

"Wow."

There's something wrong with Dudley's eyes - it's as if he's stargazing rather than looking at Harry. His pupils are blown wide and he can't seem to focus properly.

"Could you, like… sit in the couch and get the crisps to come to you? That'd be pretty sweet, not having to get up to get them."

"Dudley, are you… Are you high or something?"

Dudley widens his eyes even further and his jaw slackens. "How did you know?"

Harry takes a step back, staring down at his cousin. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon definitely don't know about this. His gaze wanders to Piers and Malcolm who both seem pretty sloshed, but maybe they're not just drunk. Is this what they came out here to do? What the hell have they taken?

"Hey, Harry?" Across the fire, Andy smiles and gets up, jerking his head further down the river. "Let's go over there for a bit."

"I wanna make the crisps fly," Dudley mumbles and lies down on his back, smiling widely at the canopies overhead.

Weirded out, Harry walks a big circle around the grill, keeping an eye on the three of them. "Are they going to be okay?"

"Yeah, they'll be fine." Andy waves his hand dismissively, takes a sip of his cider and starts down the river. "They'll probably have a bit of a headache tomorrow, but it won't be worse than a hangover."

Harry glances back at Dudley and his friends - Dudley's now got his hands up and making whooshing noises as if he's mimicking flying crisps - then goes to follow Andy. They find a tree that's fallen halfway into the river and sit down on the trunk, the moonlight shining through a gap between the trees. Andy bumps their cans together and takes a few deep swallows while Harry takes a tiny sip of his beer.

"So if you and Dudley aren't brothers, what are you?" he asks.

"What? Oh, right. We're cousins."

"Cousins, huh? So you're staying the summer then?"

"Something like that." Harry stares out over the dark river water. He can feel Andy's gaze on the side of his face and tries to change the subject: "How do you know Dudley?"

"I'm their senior from Smeltings. Just graduated, so after summer I'm off to Uni. You don't go to Smeltings, do you?"

Harry hesitates, but what could it possibly matter? A muggle's not going to know what Hogwarts is anyway. He shakes his head and says: "I go to a school in Scotland. You won't have heard of it - it's called Hogwarts."

Andy chokes on his beer and coughs. "Hog warts? Really?"

Harry nods with a snort and looks down at the can hanging loosely in his hands between his knees. "Yeah, really."

There's a splash and Harry turns his head, trying to catch sight of what made the sound. The constant flow of the river has already washed the ripples away, and whatever made the splash - a fish, maybe? - has disappeared below the surface. Andy shifts beside him, their shoulders bumping. There's the crinkle of plastic and then a palm-sized resealable bag is dangling in front of Harry's eyes. Inside, there's a small pill that looks just like a painkiller, white with a faint line running down the middle of it.

"You wanna try some?"

Harry stares at it for a moment, then flinches back and turns sharply to Andy. "You're the one that gave it to them?" he asks and jerks his head back towards the camp.

"Yeah, they asked me to bring it. Swimming was just a bonus."

Harry eyes the bag and the pill inside. It looks innocent enough but if it could get Dudley to say magic is cool…

"What is it?" he asks and from the corner of his eye, he sees Andy grin.

"It's bliss, Harry. Trust me."

Harry hesitates, then shakes his head and pushes Andy's hand away to get the pill out of his sight.

"Come on, Harry. It'd do you some good. Help you relax a bit."

When did he last get to relax? When did he last go a day without worrying about Voldemort? When did he last get a full night's sleep? He's seen the dark circles under his eyes in the mirror, felt the knots of tension in his shoulders. Dudley did look as if he was floating on clouds... and Harry must be worse off than he thought if he's actually considering this.

"You take it. I'm fine."

He shivers in the chill of the night and tugs the towel tighter around his shoulders. Merlin, he's tired. Maybe he should take a spot in the tent for himself before the others come around.

An arm settles around his shoulders and Andy pulls him close. Harry tenses in surprise, but Andy, having had the foresight to bring a hoodie, is warm. Keeping his eyes on the can hanging loosely from his fingers to not look at the other, Harry hears the crinkle of plastic and then Andy lifts his cider with his free hand. He'd never admit it, but Harry's actually a bit… disappointed.

The hand on his shoulder squeezes lightly, the thumb running firm circles into a tense muscle. It's… nice. With his head bowed, Harry stares down into his can and feels the hand stroke its way up, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It cups the side of his neck, then shifts again, the thump finding a snug behind Harry's ear he never really thought of before. It brushes against the temple tip of his glasses, pushing them slightly askew, and the palm cups his jaw, warm and big as the fingers splay out across his cheek.

Harry turns his head and opens his mouth to ask Andy what he's doing, but then there are lips on his and a tongue pushing inside. Harry grunts in surprise and hears the slosh of his beer spilling when he drops the can. Then there's cider pouring into his mouth and the hand holding the side of his face won't let him turn away so he swallows and feels the round hardness that washes down with the drink.

He coughs and the hand let's go. Leaning forward with his head between his knees, he hacks and the hand returns to massage his neck.

"What the hell, Andy?!" he shouts and swats the hand away, glaring up at the other.

"Easy now. It's okay. You shouldn't worry so much."

Harry dries his mouth on the back of his hand. "Well, fuck you," he snarls and puts a hand on the trunk to get up.

Andy grabs his arm and pulls him back down. "Come on, Harry. It's harmless."

Harry scowls down at the beer can between his feet. It's on its side and the beer as glugged out into a dark puddle in the grass. He's tired and hungry and a bit cold, but apart from the gross taste of cider in his mouth, he doesn't feel any different. Maybe he did overreact. He doesn't actually know anything about these things, and Andy the bastard does seem to know what he's doing. Perhaps it's not so bad after all?

"So you and Dudley don't get along all that well, do you?"

Harry snorts. "What gave it away?"

Hah-ha! "Then why are you staying the summer?"

"It's not like I have anywhere else to go."

There's a moment of silence when Harry looks up through his fringe at the purple flowers growing on the edge of the water and waits for the question that's sure to come. Then Andy's warm hand settles on the nape of Harry's neck again, kneading the tired muscles in a way that makes Harry drop his head forward.

"What about that school of yours then? I heard Dudley thinks it's some kind of special school."

"Hogwarts… Hogwarts is amazing." Harry closes his eyes and sighs, grudgingly admitting to himself that Andy's hand on his neck does feel pretty good.

"I don't know anyone who'd think their school is amazing."

"It's this really old castle in the Scottish Highlands, right by a lake. Our dorm is high up in a tower and we can see the Quidditch pitch and miles of the Forbidden Forest through the windows and everyone eats in this hall where you can see the sky through the roof."

"That does sound pretty cool."

Andy gives his neck a firm squeeze and Harry bites his lip to stop himself from groaning.

"So what's Quidditch?"

Harry freezes. Shit, he's said too much. What else did he say? The hand stops for a moment, then starts kneading again.

"It's just a sport. A… a Scottish sport."

"Oh, yeah? I've never heard of it. Do you play?"

"Yes…"

"Are you any good?"

"I'm the best seeker in school," he boasts before he can stop himself, then squeezes his eyes shut and swears a long string of curses in his mind.

"I guess that's why you're so lean, then."

…

Huh?

"Hey, are you still cold? Move a bit, would you?"

Mind scrambled, Harry lets Andy shift him around until they are both straddling the trunk with Harry's back against Andy's chest. Andy slings an arm casually around him, his hand coming to rest on Harry's stomach. It's… warm. Harry blinks slowly and follows the tree with his gaze to where the naked branches are dunked into the river. The dry branches are white like bones in the moonlight and point like broken fingers towards the sky. It's a dark indigo, bluer than Harry has ever seen it before, and the stars are shining so sharply he almost has to look away but when he looks closely enough, he can see the heavens turning slowly around them.

"I heard you and Dudley talking about magic," Andy says and his voice is low and right in Harry's ear.

"Hm?" Harry rolls his head back and tries to look Andy in the face, but ends up digging his nose into Andy's neck instead. "Wait… You heard that? You weren't supposed to hear that…"

"No? Why not?"

"There's this thing called the Statue of Secrecy. We're not supposed to tell muggles about magic."

"Muggles?"

"People who don't have magic, like you and Dudley."

"And you do? Are you like Merlin, or what?"

"No! Merlin's the most powerful wizard there's ever been! And he's been dead for ages."

Andy laughs and it's not that short hah-ha but a deep, rolling laugh that makes his chest shake against Harry's back.

"You really are a bit of a mental case, aren't you?"

Harry frowns, then sighs and rolls his head to the side to look out over the river. "It's better if you don't believe me or they might come and Obliviate you."

"They might what now?"

"Obliviate you. It's when they charm your memories away."

"Sounds scary."

Harry nods slowly, staring up at the turning stars. They seem so close. "We had a teacher once… He went around and Obliviated people and took credit for all the things they'd done… He almost Obliviated me, but it backfired and the tunnel fell in..."

Warm fingers close around his chin and tilts his face up. Harry blinks slowly at Andy as grey eyes move back and forth between his own green ones, a strangely serious frown wrinkling Andy's brow. This close, his irises are implosions of sky blue, grassy green, sharp white and steely grey with streaks of galleon gold. Then Andy's grinning again.

"There we are," he mumbles and leans in.

His lips brush over Harry's, softly, barely there. The thumb on his chin tips his mouth open and Andy leans his head to the side, his nose brushing Harry's cheek. His tongue sweeps over Harry's bottom lip, then dips inside, finding Harry's own tongue then drawing back. The next moment, his lips seal over Harry's, now kissing him full on, then nibbling his bottom lip.

"Mmgh." The sound bubbles up from somewhere deep inside of Harry that has never made itself heard before and he gasps into the kiss. The hand on his stomach starts moving, rucking his t-shirt up and the stroking its way in under the shirt. It's pure heat against Harry's chilled skin as it trails up, pressing over Harry's wildly beating heart that's like a drum in his head and then stroking it's way down, down to the lining of his joggers. The muscles jump under his touch and Harry is suddenly very deeply aware that he's not wearing anything else under those trousers.

Harry finds Andy's arm and grabs it hard, fingers digging into his lower arm. Andy's tongue dips deep into his mouth, stroking along his palate all the way to the back as the hand on his jaw moves down to rest over his collarbones. The hand on his stomach moves, stroking sideways along the lining on his trousers, fingers curling into the soft hairs trailing down from his navel. Harry tightens his grip on Andy's arm, unable to stop him from moving, not even sure he wants him to stop, but very much needing to hold on to something.

Andy sucks on his bottom lip, then dives in for another one of those deep kisses and Harry groans at the sharp taste of cider. He reaches up, blindly, and finds Andy's head. Moving down, he grabs Andy's neck, fingers pulling at the tiny hairs there and Andy hisses into the kiss. One of his fingers dips into Harry's navel, his thumb teasing its way below the waistline. It sends a shiver of anticipation through Harry and Andy laughs into the kiss and pulls back.

Harry blinks up at Andy, his chest heaving as he pants breathlessly, his glasses askew. Andy is grinning down at him, and the hand on Harry's chest moves up to stroke his lips, then push his fringe out of his face, fingers pausing on his forehead.

"How'd you get this?"

"Wh... what?"

"This scar, right here," Andy says, his fingertips tracing the firebolt shape.

"It's a curse scar… from when Voldemort tried to… tried to kill me," Harry explains, trying to catch his breath, his mind flooded with a feeling that's both a sedate, luxurious heaviness and a jittery, sharp tingle.

Hah-ha! "Well of course it is." Andy grins wryly and Harry's breath catches when he leans down and presses a kiss to the scar.

* * *

There's the chirp of birds, the rustle of leaves and the wind shaking the reeds. Harry groans, raises a unwieldy hand and rubs his eyes. His head… hurts. It hurts like it's been pumped full with wool and is about to crack open, the wool pressing against his temples and the back of his eyes. It's also very, very heavy. It doesn't help that the temples of his glasses are digging into the side of his skull, so he straightens them and cracks an eye open, then promptly pulls his head back when Andy's chin appears right in front of his nose.

Andy is sleeping, his mouth open and an arm thrown across his face to block out the sunlight. Harry opens both of his eyes and takes a quick look around, his mouth opening into a knut-sized "O" when he realises he is spread out on top of Andy. They're in the cramped backseat of the Mini with an orange unzipped sleeping bag that has slipped down onto the floor behind the driver's seat, only part of it still covering Harry's legs. With one leg between Andy's and the other trapped against the back of the seats, he had been sleeping with his cheek on Andy's shoulder.

His mind makes a mad scramble, trying to piece together what happened last night, and he squeezed his eyes shut when he remembers the pill, the tree trunk, the… kissing. It felt really good. Merlin, how embarrassing. He pales and quickly looks down at Andy's sleeping face. Did he really, actually… tell him? About magic, and Voldemort, and…? What happens to people who break the Statue of Secrecy? Are they put in Azkaban? But… it should be okay if the muggle doesn't believe it's real, shouldn't it?

Harry swallows hard, then puts a hand on the back of the driver's seat and pulls himself up slowly, careful not the jar Andy. Pushing the sleeping bag onto the floor, he fumbles with his free hand behind his back and finds the door handle. With bated breath, Harry pulls the handle and hears the click of the car door opening. With his weight on the knee between Andy's legs, he backs out slowly, his searching foot finding the ground. He holds his breath until he's standing on his own two feet in the grass, then doesn't dare close the car door again should he happen to wake Andy.

He lets out a breath and turns around, and is met by a disaster zone worthy of the potions classroom. There's a half-melted plastic bag on the grill and the ground is littered with blackened marshmallows, spilt mustard and crinkled up, empty cans. Amid it all, Malcolm is snoring loudly, curled up in a bright purple sleeping bag with a trail of drool running down his cheek that makes Harry reach up and rub the corner of his own mouth. From the tent, Dudley's even louder snores rumble and a familiar foot sticks out from under the half-closed flap.

With his stomach rumbling wetly and his eyes barely open, Harry spots a water bottle that's halfway under the tent and bends down to pick it up. There's only about an inch of water left, but it's better than nothing. Twisting the cap, he empties it in a couple of deep gulps. His mouth is still dry and his tongue sticks against his palate. The wooly feeling is turning into a bludger-worthy headache and he throws the water bottle aside to hold on to his thumping temples.

What was he thinking? He only met Andy yesterday and, Merlin, he doesn't even know what that pill was! It could have been anything! And that… the… the things that they did - that Andy did!

Harry groans. Face flaming, he staggers down to the river to dunk his head underwater and, potentially, drown himself. As soon as they get back to Privet Drive, he'll forget everything and the Statue of Secrecy be damned if Dudley every mentions anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT

* * *

The second time, it's curiosity. As punishment for leaving the gardening undone - _"__How could you think to leave the weeder out like that? And a pile of weed! On my lawn!" _\- the Dursley's have piled him with extra chores. As his hands are kept busy over the next few days, his head is free to loop muddled memories, making him question if he remembers that night by River Wey properly. Did it really feel as good as he remembers it, as it does in the dreams that leave him hot and bothered in the morning? What happened after that, in the hours of dawn before he woke up in the car? Will it feel as good as he thinks it did… if he does it again?

Then comes an evening when Dudley is hovering in the kitchen door after dinner while Harry dries and puts away the dishes. He's got a new pair of jeans on and his hair looks like… well, it looks like he's tried to do something with it. The TV is on in the living room and the jingle of one of Dudley's favourite shows comes on but he's making no move to go see it.

"What do you want, Dudley?"

Dudley hesitates, then asks: "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing. What would I be doing?"

"Okay. Good. Then you'd rather stay at home, right?"

Harry stacks the last plate in the cupboard and turns around to face his cousin. "What are you on about?"

Dudley opens his mouth, then closes it and frowns. Harry raises his brows, surprised that his cousin is trying to think deeply about anything. It only makes him look dumber.

"You don't want to go to a party, do you?"

"What, am I invited?" Harry asks, leaning against the kitchen counter with his hands on the lip of the sink.

"Andy told me to bring you along," Dudley says reluctantly and the curiosity comes roaring.

"Okay. I'm coming."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. You just invited me."

Dudley scowls at him, then turns and walks out the door. "I'm taking the bus in ten minutes and I'm not waiting for you!"

Harry drops the kitchen towel and changes out of his joggers in no time, then jogs down the street to catch up with his cousin. The bus ride is possibly the most awkward one he's ever been on. They sit on opposite sides of the bus, Dudley busy ignoring his cousin and Harry busy second-guessing his decision. Every time the bus stops, Harry's about to get off and walk back to Privet Drive. Even he can tell that this is very possibly a very, very bad idea.

When Dudley finally gets up at Mareschal Road, Harry follows him off the bus and down a quiet street of semi-detached houses. With Harry trailing a few steps behind, Dudley leads the way through an area of homes that have been rebuilt and expanded to the point where the original resemblance is vague at best. They follow a narrow passage between two garages, and as soon as they come out on the other side it's obvious which house is Andy's. His red Mini is parked on the street outside and the front door is wide open, playing loud music for the entire neighbourhood. There's a group of older teens standing by the door, passing around a cigarette; Dudley says hi to one of them and gets a disinterested nod back as they walk into the hallway.

There is _a lot of people_. In spite of his second-guessing on the bus, Harry never considered the fact that there would be other people there. There are people standing with drinks in hand in the hallway and sitting on the stairs leading up to the second floor. In the kitchen, there are people sitting everywhere, even on the kitchen counter among bags of crisps and pet bottles of vodka. The entire house seems more crowded than the Gryffindor common room after a Quidditch victory.

"Don't do anything freakish," Dudley shouts into Harry's ear, the beat of the music vibrating in the floor. Then he disappears down the hallway, quickly swallowed by the mass of people.

Harry shifts from one foot to the other, then shuffles out of the way when one of the girls from outside squeezes past him, the smell of smoke following her. Her tight-fitting, black dress makes Harry look down at his own jeans and shirt and he pulls a bit at the sleeves. Thank Merlin he put on something that actually fits and not Dudley's hand-me-downs.

Not keen on following Dudley, he turns to walk into the kitchen, then jerks back when a guy bangs into the doorframe, followed by a woman. Harry looks away when they start making out and hurriedly walks down the corridor further into the house. An open door turns out to lead to the bathroom where one girl is sitting on the edge of the bathtub while another one is checking herself in the mirror. Right as Harry walks by, a third girl shouts that she needs to take a piss and curses the other two out of the room.

"So rude!" one of them complains when the bathroom door is slammed closed behind them.

Harry skirts around them and finds a living room at the end of the corridor. The stereo is blaring songs he's never heard before but that everyone else seems to know. The TV is on, Dudley and some girl playing a snowboard game with a cheering crowd around them. A pair of doors stand open to the garden that seems just as full of people as the rest of the house. It's a sea of unfamiliar faces and Harry sighs and scratches his arm. Maybe this really was a bad idea after all - he won't even be able to find Andy in this crowd of strangers.

"Harry! You came!"

Harry turns around, eyes hopping from face to face until he spots Andy squeezed into a worn leather couch. He's got that grin on his face and he waves for Harry to come closer with a beer in his hand. There's a girl sloshed against Andy's side, her gaze distant under heavy eyelids. Her face is lax, her mouth slightly open, and she seems boneless as if Lockhart has vanished every single bone in her body.

Harry swallows and looks away, then yelps when Andy snatches Harry's hand and pulls. Thrown off balance, he stumbles and catches himself with a hand on Andy's knee. Andy steadies him with a hand on his shoulder, then the hand moves up to Harry's neck and pulls him closer still and they're kissing. It's a harsh press of lips against lips and the hand on his neck squeezes tightly, then Andy lets go to catcalls and cheers. Harry takes a step back and rubs his mouth on the back of his hand, the bitter taste of beer lingering on his lips and his face flaming hot as someone in the crowd hoots.

"The magical wonder boy is here! _Hah-ha_!" Andy calls and those close enough to hear laugh.

Harry feels himself tense up, his spine going stiff. As he stares down at Andy's grinning face, he sees in the corner of his eye how someone is pushed out of the way and then a meaty hand grabs his arm and swings him around.

"You're gay?" Dudley spits in his face.

Harry jerks back and glares at him. The question bounces against his brain and come back without an answer, and out of his mouth comes: "That's none of your bloody business, is it?"

Dudley crowds in close, his grip sending a pulse of pain up Harry's arm that makes his face twitch into a grimace.

"I'm telling dad!" Dudley threatens and Harry feels his blood run cold. The next moment it's boiling and heated pressure fills his head.

"I'll turn you into a pig for real if you do," he snaps back, then changes his mind. "I'll tell Uncle Vernon that you'd actually like to have magic."

He knows he's hit home when Dudley's face turns pale, two red splotches on his cheeks making him look an awful lot like his father.

"That's rubbish! I _don't_."

"Oh, yeah? Don't you want to summon crisps from the kitchen? _Whoosh whoosh_, was it?"

Dudley lets go of his arm and Harry looks down to see if there are bruises forming. He doesn't see the fist - he feels it like a hammer coming down on his cheekbone, snapping his head to the side and twisting his body sideways. The living room and all the people in it tilt and the carpeting comes rushing at him sideways.

A pair of hands catch him by the shoulders and break the fall and Harry coughs, winded. He blinks and shakes his head sharply to get rid of the ringing in his ears, a burning numbness spreading across the side of his face. Looking up through his fringe, he finds a couple of older guys holding Dudley back, arms around his wide chest as he glares down at his cousin with gritted teeth.

"Hey, Harry, look at me," Andy says in Harry's ear and turns his head with a hand on his chin to have a look at the bruice. "That's going to hurt."

Someone turns off the music and the house suddenly rings with silence.

"What the fuck, man?" asks one of the guys holding Dudley.

"Yeah, what was that about?" asks the other.

"Why don't you ask the freak?" Dudley spits and wrenches free. He gives Harry a foul look, then storms out of the living room, the others gaping after him.

"Come on, Harry. Up you get." With and arm around him, Andy helps Harry up from the floor. "And turn the music back on!"

Harry lets Andy lead him out of the living room and down the corridor, his cheek starting to throb painfully. They squeeze past the people sitting on the staircase and make it upstairs where a guy is sleeping on the floor with his back against a radiator. A couple of girls are standing in a dormer window with their heads close together, giggling to themselves. Andy pulls Harry along into a bedroom with a bean bag, a guitar hanging on the wall and a wide, unmade bed pushed in under the sloping ceiling.

Andy pushes Harry towards the bed and closes the door behind them. Harry sinks down onto the mattress and reaches up, gingerly touching the side of his face. Merlin, it feels like he's been hit by a rogue bludger.

His hand gets pushed out of the way and Andy sits down beside him, grey eyes intent and a frown folding a wrinkle between his brows.

"He got you bad, didn't he?" he mumbles and holds up his hand. "How many fingers?"

"Three - and not as bad as my uncle's going to get me if Dudley blabbers," Harry mutters.

Andy's frown deepens. "Stay the night, okay? They'll have cooled down in the morning."

"I doubt it," Harry says but let's himself fall back onto the bed and closes his eyes.

He feels the mattress shift when Andy gets up and hears the scrape of a drawer before the mattress dips again. When he opens his eyes, Andy is lying on his side right beside him, his head propped up in his hand and his elbow digging into the mattress by Harry's head. With his free hand, he's holding an innocent-looking white pill between his thumb and index finger.

"It'll help with the pain," is all he says.

The music thumps from below, beating like a rapid pulse in the floor and vibrating in the walls. Harry can feel it in his chest as he looks Andy in the eye. Several beats pulse between them, and then he reaches up for the pill - and Andy pulls it away.

"What?"

Pill still in hand, Andy pushes Harry's hand back down onto the mattress beside his head. Then he raises the pill again and holds it up… against Harry's lips. They stare at each other, waiting, and Harry feels his pulse speed up in a very different way from when Dudley punched him. His mind if entirely free of thought, the pain in his face practically forgotten.

He opens his mouth.

Andy grins down at him. His knuckles brush against Harry's lips when he reaches in and places the pill on Harry's tongue, his fingers pressing down for a moment. Harry closes his lips around the digits and swallows, a shiver running down his back when Andy's eyes darken. He pulls his fingers out slowly, stroking them over Harry's bottom lip before he places his hand on the bed beside Harry's head, effectively caging him in as he leans down for a kiss.

Harry turns his head aside and pulls a face. "You taste like beer."

Andy chuckles, lips brushing against Harry's jaw. "You don't like beer?"

"Not unless it's butterbeer."

"Butterbeer?" He kisses Harry's jaw, making Harry wince when he presses against the bruising. "That something they have at that school of yours?"

"Yes," he breathes and arches his head to the side when Andy trails open-mouthed kisses down the side of his neck.

Andy laughs and it's that deep, rolling laugh. "I wish I could do that."

Harry gasps when Andy sucks on his shoulder.

"Do- do what?"

"Make a world of my own and screw the rest."

He shifts his weight until he's on his hands and knees over Harry, pausing only to suck a mark onto Harry's collarbone before he moves down. He grabs the hem of Harry's shirt and Harry sits up to let him pull it off. As soon as it's gone, Andy pushes Harry back down onto the mattress with a hand on his shoulder and presses a wet kiss to one of his nipples, making Harry twitch and gasp. Shit, he didn't even know he was sensitive there.

He reaches, finds the neckline of Andy's shirt and pulls at it. Andy laughs and sits back on his knees straddling Harry's legs, his head an inch from hitting the ceiling. He bends forward and pulls his shirt off and for the first time, Harry consciously checks another guy out. Andy's arms are strong and there are purple, finger-sized bruises where Harry held on to him last time. His shoulders and biceps are bunched up and his firm chest is nicely tanned. He grins and waggles his brows and Harry feels his face heat up but refuses to look away. Then Andy rubs his knee up against Harry groin and Harry throws his head back, a drawn-out groan tearing itself out of his chest.

Andy laughs and comes back down, his knee moving in just the right way as he takes Harry's bottom lip between his teeth and sucks hard, then angles his head and licks his way into Harry's mouth. Harry moans and the bitter taste of beer doesn't bloody matter anymore. He cants his hips to get more friction against Andy's leg and Andy laughs into the kiss. Harry reaches up, bangs his knuckles against the ceiling and then finds Andy's head. He works his fingers into auburn locks and presses Andy closer, deeper into the kiss as he sucks on Andy's tongue. Andy groans and thrusts his knee, hard, making Harry gasp and break the kiss.

Andy reaches down and starts working on Harry's jeans with purpose, his fingers fumbling with the button. Harry swats his hands away and unzips his jeans himself, then arches his back off the bed when Andy hooks his fingers into the loops and pulls. He throws the jeans onto the floor, then pulls his own jeans down and kicks them off. He's not wearing anything under them and Harry stares.

He's seen other guys' dicks before. Of course he has, he's showered with the others after Quidditch plenty of times but- He hasn't quite seen it like this before.

Andy leans down with a grin and strokes one hand down Harry's side, the other curling around his hip in a steady grip. Looking Harry in the eye, he kisses his hip, then the lining of Harry's pants. Hooking his fingers in the elastic band with one hand, he starts pulling, slowly, and Harry hisses at the whisper of friction. Merlin, he's never been this hard before.

Andy jerks the pants off and Harry jumps at the suddenness of it. Andy kisses the inside of his thigh, so _so close_, and then he pulls away and Harry groans in protest. Harry glares up at him, the streaks of gold and red in Andy's hair sharp like in an overexposed photo and the lamp in the corner shines like a searchlight over his shoulder. The mattress dips and rolls like waves on the Black Lake as Andy crawls up along Harry's body. There's no more than inches between their naked bodies and Harry's breath stutters at the heat coming from Andy's skin - and then there's no space at all between them when Andy rolls his hips and their erections connect.

Harry throws his head back with a groan that vibrates deep in his chest. He grabs hold of Andy's hips, fingers digging into his skin, trying to drag Andy down for more. Andy laughs and cants his hips and Harry hisses at the searing heat that burns with pleasure up his spine. A hand closes around their erections, squeezing them together and _stroking, _and Harry moans breathlessly.

It's messy and uncoordinated. They move together, sensitive skin rubbing against each other without any real rhythm, just tight friction and sweaty heat. Harry pulls a leg up and throws it over Andy's hips to pull him closer, to get more, and Andy leans his forehead against Harry's, their breaths mingling as they pant.

"Yes, yes!" Harry babbles as the muscles in his abdomen clench. "So close, I'm co-, I'm-!"

The orgasm washes through him and he slumps, his hands falling limp to the mattress as he gasps for breath. Andy's still moving, rutting against Harry's oversensitive skin, making Harry shudder and groan.

"Oh shit, Harry- Fuck-!"

Andy trembles and spills a sticky mess on Harry's stomach, then collapses on top of him. For long, hazy moments they gasp for breath, their bodies leaden and sweetly numb. Harry's feeling as if he's floating freely in the middle of the Black Lake, his limbs loose like sea weed and his mind slowly sinking into the sediment at the bottom.

Through the deep, muddy waters, he hears Andy mumble "You have to come here often" into and felt him press a kiss to his temple. "_Hah! _Come by whenever you want."


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT

* * *

The third time, it's the letters from Ron and Hermione that are full of excuses but say nothing. It's the growing suspicion knotting in his gut that they're together somewhere while he, Harry, is stuck at Privet Drive with no information and it's the feeling of constantly being watched. It's in the sudden apparition-like crack on a slow afternoon that has him running out onto the street, looking for the cause of it. It's in the unexplained rustle outside his window on a sleepless night. It's even in old Mrs Figg who seems to be taking a walk whenever Harry's been sent out to do the gardening, always stopping for a chat over the garden wall that ends in snappy, one word replies from Harry. He hasn't slept properly since Andy's party - he certainly doesn't need her to tell him he's looking "a bit worn".

Then, one evening when the warm air stands still between the houses, it's a letter from Dumbledore that's the final straw.

_DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. _

Harry stares at the piece of parchment for long, unblinking moments. When he first saw the headmaster's familiar handwriting, he'd felt his heart jump with hope and now _this_. The parchment crinkles to a ball in his fist. He's clenching his hands so hard his knuckles ache and his head feels like it's a cauldron with a volatile potion boiling inside. It's going to explode any moment now if he doesn't do something.

He throws the ball of parchment on the floor and ignores the indignant hoot from the owl that delivered it as he snatches his wand and some money from the bedside table. He doesn't know what Dudley told his parents after Andy's party, but the Dursleys have been upholding an icy wall ever since. It fits Harry just fine as he storms down the stairs and slams the door on his way out. He whips his wand out before he's even reached the end of the drive and summons the knight bus with a mighty _bang_!

"Mareschal Road," he snaps and pushes the money into Shunpike's hand before the pimply teen can open his mouth.

He throws himself into one of the plush armchairs and is pressed deep into the stuffing when they take off with screeching tyres. His heart is hammering furiously in his chest and he grips the armrests hard. He's in a pair of cotton shorts and a too large t-shirt with a frayed neckline, but it feels damned good to be out of the house again.

With another _bang! _the purple bus apparates from Little Whinging to another suburban street that looks much the same. Shunpike is trying to stare discreetly at him from the corner of his eye and quickly turns away when Harry gives him a dirty look. Then they brake hard and Harry holds on for dear life as his armchair careens to the front of the bus, another chair crashing into his from behind. There's a hard _thump _from the back of the bus followed by sharp cursing and then they're standing still.

"Mareschal Road!" Shunpike announces and Harry detaches himself from the armchair and gets off.

The air here is a bit cooler than back at Privet Drive, a pleasant breeze blowing up the hill. The Knight bus tears away and barely misses a parked car as it rounds the corner and disappears out of sight. Harry strokes his hair out of his face and stuffs his wand into the back lining of his shorts, hidden under his t-shirt, then starts down the street, trying to remember the way he walked with Dudley. He turns the corner by the garden full of white rhododendron, follows the street to the garage with a pile of trash outside, and wasn't this the passage they went through?

This time, there's no loud music or crowds of teens to mark the right house, but the little Mini is parked outside and there's the blue light of a TV screen shining through one of the windows. Harry walks up the drive and knocks on the door, then takes a step back and waits.

Something rustled in the neatly trimmed boxwood hedge around the neighbour's garden. A small dog yips further down the street and it smells like someone's making roast for dinner. It's all so… normal.

Harry shifts and scratches his neck. His wildly beating heart has calmed down a bit, his rapid breathing slowed. The door clicks and he realises that this must be Andy's parents' house. What does he say if Andy's mom or dad opens the door? They probably don't know about the white pills, might not even know that their son likes guys - or at least guys _as well_ \- and they definitely won't know who Harry is, this random, scrawny guy in cotton shorts who looks like he's just run away from home.

The door opens and Andy looks down at him. Harry flounders for what to say, but Andy just holds the door opens and steps aside.

"Hey, come on in."

He seems completely relaxed, if a bit surprised, as if there's nothing all that strange about Harry showing up unannounced at his doorstep.

Compared to last time, the house is startlingly quiet. There's the mumble of the TV from the living room and a clock is ticking in the kitchen. There's no sign of there being anyone else at home.

"I've got leftover pizza, you want some?"

Andy scratches his arm. He's wearing a pair of pajama bottoms riding low on his hips and a loose tank top. It somehow makes it easier for Harry to look him in the eye and say: "I didn't come here for leftover pizza."

Andy blinks, then grins. _Hah-ha! _"Come on, then."

He jerks his head towards the stairs and lets Harry go up first. It sends a tingle up Harry's spine, feeling Andy walk so close behind him, close enough to touch. It makes Harry hold his breath in anticipation of fingers to brush against his hip, a palm to press against his lower back. Neither happens, and then they're in the bedroom. With the guitar and the bean bag and the steeped ceiling, it's the same except for the silence and the absence of bas shaking the floor.

Harry sits down on the bed without being asked to and Andy goes over to the desk with the drawer where the pills are. The desk is organized, Harry notices, with ballpoint pens in a holder and a collection of thick, serious looking books sorted in what seems to be alphabetical order. There's even a pair of reading glasses folded atop a notebook with colourful sticky notes.

Andy fetches the little bag, pulls a pill out before leaving the rest on the desk and coming over to the bed. This time, Harry doesn't hesitate - he takes the pill and pops it into his mouth, then throws his head back and swallows. He knows the effect won't kick in for a while, but he already feels better.

"Hey, did something happen?"

Andy's eyes roam up and down Harry's body, looking at his clothes - or, Harry realizes a moment later, looking for new bruising. Harry shakes his head, takes his glasses off and rubs his face.

"It's nothing," he sighs, because really, now that he's away from Privet Drive, nothing has actually happened. "I got yelled at for leaving the house, so I just had to get out."

_Hah-ha! _"So you got yelled at by your relatives?"

"No, the headmaster."

"Headmaster?"

"Yes." Harry smiles wryly, realising how strange that would have been had he been any one else. "The headmaster of Hogwarts."

"Why would he care where you are in the summers?"

"He says it's for my own safety. It's… You know what? Can we just… _not_?"

"Sure. So what do you want?" He says it so easily, leaning back with his elbows digging into the mattress, but his eyes have already darkened.

Harry looks at him for a moment, then shifts so that he's got one leg folded under himself on the bed. One hand on Andy's shoulder, he leans in with his head angled to the side and presses his lips against Andy's. He can feel Andy smiling into the kiss and then his hands are there, one cupping Harry's neck, the other gripping his hip, and Andy falls back onto the mattress with Harry on top.

Harry digs his fingers into Andy's hair, supporting his weight on his elbows on either side of Andy's head. The kiss tastes like pizza and soda and Andy smells like soap and shampoo as if he recently showered. The hand on Harry's hip moves around to the small of his back and pauses. Andy turns his head to the side and breaks the kiss.

"What's this?" he asks and Harry feels his wand being pulled out of his shorts. "A stick?"

"It's my wand," Harry says and twists to see Andy holding it up.

"You're walking around with a… a wand?"

"Mhm." Harry looks Andy in the eye and after a moment the scepticism is burnt out by a spark of mirth.

"So you do magic with this, then? But let me guess; you can't show me because of that thing about secrecy?"

"The Statue of Secrecy, yes. Now give me that, will you?" Harry says and takes his wand back, then stretches across the bed to put it away on the bedside table.

Andy laughs, low and rumbling, and grabs Harry's neck to pull him back for a kiss. His hands wander down again, find the hem of Harry's t-shirt and pulls it up. Harry sits back to let Andy pull the shirt over his head - as soon as it's been thrown to the side, Andy takes hold of Harry's hips and leans up to place open-mouthed kisses on his chest. He sucks a mark onto a collarbone, right next to the faded one from last time, and Harry moans, his fingers twisting into Andy's hair.

He reaches down Andy's back and grabs fistfuls of ribbed jersey. Tugging, he gets the tank top off and leans in closer, pressing their naked chests together and - _oh! _Their erections run together, tearing a moan out of Harry who grips Andy's shoulders hard and grinds down again. Andy's hands on his hips guide him to a steady rhythm, pushing and pulling. Harry moves one hand onto Andy's hair, fingers clenching in sweaty curls as he drops his forehead onto Andy's shoulder and gasps into his collarbone. _Fuck_, it's good.

Andy strokes one of his hands back over Harry's buttock, fingers rubbing the nub of his tailbone, then trailing down. Harry twitches, the sensation of his crease being rubbed breaking through the heated haze of building pleasure. His brow furrows when Andy circles his asshole.

"Wh- what?"

"Don't stop." The hand still on his hip pushes him to roll his hips again. "Come on, it'll feel good."

The hand on his hip disappears and Andy shifts as if he's reaching for something. There's a soft _pop _and then gooey, cool slime runs down Harry's ass and he jerks with a startled gasp.

"Just relax, okay?"

Andy pushes the tip of his finger against Harry's hole and Harry shudders when it _goes in_.

"Easy for you to say," he grunts, then _moans_ when Andy palms both of their erections in his free hand and squeezes. Andy strokes down their lengths and Harry decides he can overlook the finger up his ass as long as he gets more of _that_. He pushes forward into the tight circle of Andy's fingers and the finger almost slips out, then burrows in further. It feels slick and weird, the finger crooking and worming around, and Harry hisses at the stretch when a second finger pokes its way inside.

"Come on, magic boy," Andy murmurs against Harry's neck and slops a wet kiss to his ear lobe. "Work with me, would you?"

Harry rolls his hips, pushing forward against Andy's erection and then back onto the fingers,then again: wet heat and friction, then the stretch as the fingers push inside, deeper and deeper for every time, stroking his insides.

"Shit," Harry gasps against Andy's shoulder. Merlin, this is arousing. It's like he's fucking himself on Andy's fingers and and he is _so bloody hard_.

Andy works a third finger into him and Harry stops for but a moment before he picks up the pace again.

"Oh, yes. That's right - just like that," Andy breathes and Harry can feel that he's just as turned on as he is.

Harry puts an arm around Andy's shoulders for better leverage and speeds up a bit. His legs are starting to tremble but he is getting so, _so_ _close_, just a bit more now and he'll-

"Woah, woah, slow down a bit!" Andy gasps. "We don't want to finish too fast!"

Andy lets go of their erections and pulls out his fingers and Harry groans into his neck.

"Merlin, Andy, why- you can't just stop!"

"Just trust me, okay?" Andy takes Harry's chin between his thumb and index finger and turns his head for a sloppy kiss. "Can you go up a bit?"

"Up?"

Andy grabs his arse, fingers stroking along his crease and two of them dipping into his hole. Harry gasps and shivers and Andy curses quietly under his breath, then pulls upwards and Harry raises himself to his knees with trembling legs. One of the hands let go and then a blunt hard heat presses up against Harry's hole. The other hand moves to his hip, no longer holding him up but pushing down and Harry hisses at the stretch.

"Shit, Andy, that's not- I can't-"

"Sure you can. Just breathe, okay? Trust me. You're doing great," Andy babbles, a steady stream of reassurance.

Harry lowers himself ever so slightly and grimaces at the burn, but it's not all that bad. There's pain somewhere screaming at him to stop but it feels far off as if smothered by a warm blanket, and Harry dully realizes that the pill must be helping. Straining his legs to push up, he takes deep breath before going back down, the blunt tip of Andy's cock stretching him open and then the head is pressed inside.

"A- Andy…"

"Shit, Harry… You're doing great, fucking great," Andy groans through clenched teeth. "Keep going, just take it slow, I've got you..."

He puts an arm around Harry's shoulders and hugs him close, the other hand fimly squeezing his ass and guiding him back up again. Just when Harry thinks Andy is going to slip out, the arm around his waist pushes him down and Andy rocks upwards_. _Harry grunts when the erection pushes in further, then rocks back before rocking up again, again and again, going a little deeper every time.

"Bear with me," Andy grinds out, sweat pearling on his forehead. "I'll make you feel good in just… just a little bit more…"

He shifts and thrusts again and Harry gasps, eyes squeezed shut. He's so… so _full_ and he's stretched further than he's supposed to be and then Andy pulls out and thrusts in again and-

Harry throws his head back, his back arching as he moans deep and loud, hands gripping Andy's hair.

"Fucking finally," Andy gasps and rolls his hips, grinding against _that spot _inside that Harry didn't even know he had.

He moans and rocks his hips back to meet Andy's rolls, to make sure he'll hit _that place_. Andy's rubbing a liquid heat of pleasure into him, deep inside of Harry, and it's scalding lava running up his spine. His erection is fully hard and aching again and he grabs on to Andy's shoulder for leverage as he works himself down onto Andy's cock, pace fast and uneven. His legs are shaking so bad but it doesn't matter. His head is full of white heat. He's making all sorts of noises but there's no stopping them from being torn out of his chest and Andy's breathless pants in his ear spur him on and _yes, fuck yes, AH-! _

He comes with a shuddering, raw shout, his back arching and his chest pressing against Andy's as all-encompassing pleasure drowns out everything else. Then he comes crashing back down, a white mess between them and his entire body a limp, dead weight as he collapses against Andy. Andy grabs his hips with both hands and rolls his hips, sharp spikes of pleasure shooting up Harry's sensitive nerves. Then there's hot wetness washing Harry's insides and Andy collapses onto the mattress, Harry on top of him.

Closing his eyes, Harry pants with his cheek against Andy's heaving chest, his heart thrumming and his hot breath washing over Harry's ear. Maybe he could just stay here for the rest of the summer. Could he do what Andy said, just make a fantasy of his own and "screw the rest"? Could this, right here, be his fantasy? No more Dursleys, no more dreams, no more chores, just…

A dove cooes outside the window as Harry feels drifts off.

* * *

Harry yawns and stretches, blinking his eyes open to the soft blur of Andy's dark bedroom. They're lying as they fell asleep, Andy on his back and Harry halfway on top of him, one arm resting across Andy's chest and head pillowed on his shoulder. One of Andy's hands is loosely curled around Harry's hips and their legs have tangled together under the sheets.

His body feels heavy, muscles lethargic like when he's taking a hot shower after a long Quidditch match and the adrenaline has worn off. Though sleepy, his head feels clearer than it has in days and he realises that he's actually slept for hours without a single dream. Weather it's because of the pill or the closeness of another body, the steady beat of another's heart, he's actually had a good few hours of deep, restful sleep.

_BAM-BAM-BAM!_

"_Mr. Hollies! This is the police! Open the door!_"

Harry freezes, every muscle in his body going rigid as his sleepy mind crashes into acute awareness. Propping himself up on one elbow, he winces at the pain shooting up his spine, then throws his other arm out and fumbles over the nightstand for his wand. He swipes a couple of pills to the side and the thin metal frame of his glasses meets his fingertips. He janks them up and push them on, the fuzzy darkness turning to sharp angles and clear shapes.

"_Mr. Hollies! We have a warrant!_"

"Andy?" Heart beating like the cop's fist on the front door, Harry grabs Andy's shoulder and shakes him. How can he still be asleep? "Andy, the cops are here! Why are the cops here?"

"My dear boy… I'm afraid I am the one who called on them."

Harry whips around and his heart stutters and stops for a moment. Shrouded in the shades of the night, professor Dumbledore is standing in a corner of the bedroom. His gaudy robes turned monochrome in the moonlight, he bows his head under the slope of the ceiling and his spectacles reflect the light like shining half-moon disks covering his eyes. In his hand, he's holding Harry's wand.

"What? What did you- Why would you do that?" With a sinking feeling in his gut, Harry squeezes Andy's shoulder but Andy does nothing but let out a soft snore. "What did you do to Andy?"

"We must uphold the statue of secrecy, Harry. Telling a muggle about magic… I was left with no choice but to obliviate young Mr. Hollies."

Harry can't breathe. It's as if the breath's been taken out of him. He wants to turn to Andy, to shake him until he wakes up, to see the recognition in his eyes and hear that deep laugh of his again, but Harry can't take his eyes off Dumbledore. The headmaster bows his head further, the moonlight throwing every one of his wrinkles into sharp relief and making him look every one of his hundred years. He is looking… regretful… and apologetic, and that only makes it worse.

"No." Harry shakes his head, then shakes it again, sharply. "No, you didn't have to! He doesn't believe any of it! He thinks- He thinks I'm some kind of nutjob!"

_BAM! BAM! BAM! _

"_We know you're in there, Mr. Hollies! Open the door!_"

"Come along now, my boy. Supplying minors with drugs is a very grave offence. It is for the best that Mr. Hollies is set straight now before he can bring more harm to himself and those around him."

"That's- _No_! Andy never _made_ me take the pills!" The night by the Way flashes through Harry's mind, the two of them sitting on the fallen tree, Andy's tongue pushing that first pill into Harry's mouth, but Harry thrusts the memory aside. "I'm not going. I'm staying with Andy. I'll- I'll explain everything to the cops."

Dumbledore sighs heavily, and his face crumbles with understanding and _compassion_. "If only I had known earlier, I could have spared you this pain."

"No, you don't understand!"

"Oh, but I do, Harry. I understand far better than you can imagine. If we had more time, perhaps… Alas, we must leave now."

Harry sets his jaw and clings harder to Andy's unconscious form. The creeping realisation that Andy won't even know who he is throbs painfully deep inside, making Harry hold on tighter.

"I had hoped it would not come to this, but I am afraid you leave me little choice." Dumbledore slowly raises his wand, making Harry jerk back and stare up at him with wide eyes. "For what it is worth, I am truly very sorry about this, my boy.

"_Stupefy_."

* * *

**THE END **


End file.
